


Now's Not the Time

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras chooses a less-than-tactful way to tell Grantaire that he doesn't see marriage in their future, and must figure out how to make amends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now's Not the Time

**Author's Note:**

> For [maramakesvideos](http://tmblr.co/mnc-hPTk1w5Zu7VzCgLXHhQ), the Grand Prize winner of my 2000 follower giveaway, who requested E/R fighting and one of them getting hurt, but it all working out in the end, so I coupled that idea with my general bitterness over wedding/engagement season (must _everyone_ get engaged at the same damn time?) into this fic. Consider it a bit of catharsis.
> 
> Usual disclaimer applies. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Grantaire kissed Enjolras lightly on the cheek. “Wake up, beautiful,” he murmured, and Enjolras groaned, his nose scrunching as he cracked one eye open.

“Too early,” he muttered, closing his eye and trying to roll over, though Grantaire wouldn’t let him.

Laughing, Grantaire kissed Enjolras on the nose. “My, aren’t our places exchanged,” he teased. “But while on any other day I would want nothing more than to keep you in bed, I’m afraid we have to get up. It’s the bridal shower today.”

Now Enjolras opened both eyes, accompanied by a scowl as he pulled away from Grantaire. “I’m not going,” he said, a note of finality in his tone.

Grantaire lay down on his side, reaching out with one hand to play with Enjolras’s golden curls. “Dare I ask why?” he said.

“I refuse to go to a bridal shower for a wedding to which I wasn’t invited and of which I don’t approve,” Enjolras said stiffly.

Laughing loudly, Grantaire propped his head up on one hand. “I know you think that Cosette’s far too good for Marius, but I’m sure you’ll be able to put your feelings aside for one afternoon. Besides, you _were_ invited.”

Enjolras rolled over to look sourly at him. “Being your ‘plus one’ hardly qualifies as an invitation,” he sniffed.

Grantaire laughed again, though it was gentler this time. “Well, since you explicitly told Marius not to bother inviting you after your latest spat about, what, Jeb Bush, I think? I think getting a plus one was really the best any of us could hope for.”

“Firstly, it was Marco Rubio, secondly…” Enjolras huffed a sigh and rolled onto his back. “It’s the principle of the matter.”

Rolling his eyes, Grantaire leaned in and kissed Enjolras lightly before laying his head on Enjolras’s chest. “Well, principles aside, this could be a good opportunity for us anyway,” he said, stroking Enjolras’s hair idly. “It may give us some ideas about what we want to do for our wedding, though I don’t think we can call it a bridal shower. A groom shower? Engagement shower?”

Enjolras shifted slightly, and his tone was strange when he asked, “Ideas for us? Why would we need ideas? We’re not getting married.”

“Well, not yet, obviously,” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. “But one day, when we do, it’d still be good to have ideas or otherwise Jehan’s going to take over the whole thing and you just know that’d be a disaster.” He could feel Enjolras frowned, and frowned himself. “What?”

For a moment, Enjolras hesitated, then shook his head. “Maybe now’s not the time.”

Grantaire pulled away from him, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned at him. “For God’s sake, don’t be afraid to speak your mind on my account, Apollo,” he said dryly. “Lord knows I’ve never been able to stop you in the past.”

Enjolras’s eyes flickered up to meet his, something steely in his expression. “I just...I don’t think you understand,” he said slowly. “There’s not going to be a ‘one day’. We’re not getting married.”

Grantaire’s heart seemed to fall out of his chest as the blood drained from his face, and he sat upright in bed as he repeated, his voice sounding far away, “We’re not getting married?”

Sitting up slowly as well, Enjolras told him plainly, “I don’t want to get married. I never have.”

Grantaire shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t want to marry me,” he said softly, more to himself than Enjolras, and pulled further away from him.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t,” he said impatiently, “but it’s not just you, I don’t want to marry anyone.”

But Grantaire had stopped listening as soon as the words ‘No, I don’t’, had dropped from Enjolras’s lips like an anvil. Without waiting for Enjolras to say more, he stood, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on without looking at Enjolras.

“Grantaire--” Enjolras started, beginning to get up, confusion mingled with concern in his expression, but Grantaire just shook his head, buttoning his shirt, still refusing to look at Enjolras.

“I have to go,” Grantaire said icily, and left, leaving Enjolras staring after him.

* * *

 

Enjolras fiddled with his tie, feeling completely out of place in his suit, which he could’ve sworn fit better than it currently seemed to, and his tie didn’t seem to want to lay flat against him. He was just about to undo it and redo the knot when he caught sight of Grantaire walking towards him, adjusting his cufflinks, his own tux immaculate-looking (and almost assuredly rented). “Grantaire,” Enjolras said, before he could stop himself, and he winced, wishing he had something, anything, better to say. “You...you look wonderful.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire said shortly, his cheeks suddenly rather pink, though not, it seemed, with his usual embarrassment at anytime Enjolras complemented him.

There was an awkward pause before Enjolras nodded towards Grantaire’s boutonniere. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were in the wedding party,” he said.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, Cosette asked me...at her bridal shower.” Now the silence between couldn’t have been more awkward, and was made even more so when Grantaire muttered, “Besides, there’s a lot that you don’t know.”

Enjolras sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Grantaire, it’s been over a month,” he started, but Grantaire just shook his head, really looking at him for the first time, and when Enjolras caught sight of the look in his eyes, he flinched.

“Now’s not the time,” Grantaire told him, his voice quiet, and when Enjolras started to protest, the organ started up with the prelude, and Grantaire shook his head again. “Now’s not the time.”

Then he squared his shoulders and put a dazzling smile on his face as he went to meet Cosette, who looked positively radiant, at the entrance to the church. Enjolras closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning and slipping in the side aisle to take his seat before the bride came down the aisle.

As he caught sight of Marius beaming from the front of the church, his happiness radiating from him like light, Enjolras was tempted even more than usual to punch him in the face. But as he watched Grantaire walk Éponine down the aisle, as he saw how Grantaire’s tux seemed to fit him like a glove, his normally unruly dark curls tamed, the smile he gave more genuine than any Enjolras had seen in weeks, Enjolras couldn’t help but think that maybe he understood just a little bit what made Marius smile like that.

* * *

 

At the reception, held in the park where Marius and Cosette had their first date, Enjolras tried not to stare as he watched Grantaire out on the dance floor, his head thrown back with laughter as he danced with Cosette, who was laughing just as hard. “Cheer up, would you?” Courfeyrac asked, dropping into the seat next to Enjolras, his top button undone and his bow tie loosened. “It’s a wedding, it’s supposed to be happy. Grantaire certainly seems happy.”

“Seem is I believe the right word,” Enjolras muttered. “Besides, I’m not unhappy, I’m...I’m working up my courage.”

Courfeyrac stared at him, wary. “To do what?”

In answer, Enjolras grabbed Courfeyrac’s glass of champagne and drained it before standing. “Watch and see.” He crossed to where Grantaire stood, the song having finished, and the smile on his face faded when he saw Enjolras.

“Now’s not the time, Enjolras,” Grantaire sighed, starting to turn away, but Enjolras reached out to grab his arm.

“If not now, when?” he challenged, his voice low, and Grantaire paused, his expression unreadable. “You’re not talking to me, and I haven’t seen you in weeks. Grantaire, I love you -- you know that. But I can’t keep doing this.”

Grantaire snorted. “Sure, you love me,” he scoffed, something bitter in his tone, “just not enough to marry me.” Enjolras shook his head, exasperated, but Grantaire didn’t wait for him to speak. “But like I said, now, here, at a wedding, is really not the time to get into this.”

Desperately, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. “What are you doing?” Grantaire demanded, though he still followed him willingly enough, curiosity and perhaps something like hope in his eyes.

“Dancing with the man I love,” Enjolras answered, stopping in the middle of the dance floor and carefully, hesitantly, placing his hand on the small of Grantaire’s back.

“And if I don’t want to dance with you?” Grantaire asked, even as he took Enjolras’s hand and allowed Enjolras to lead as a new song started. His tone was serious, but Enjolras could just see the teasing light deep in his eyes, behind the hurt that still simmered close to the surface. “Where is your concern for freedom and equality now?”

On any other day, Enjolras would have taken the opening for a rant that would leave to the bickering arguments that sustained their relationship, but not this day. Instead, Enjolras stopped dancing to take a knee in the middle of the dance floor, pulling a ring box out of his jacket pocket. “What are you doing?” Grantaire hissed, as the couples around them stopped dancing as well, all eyes on them. “Now is not the time!”

Enjolras ignored him, instead reaching out to grab Grantaire’s hand. “Grantaire,” he said, his voice breaking slightly, “I’ve never wanted to get married, for a lot of reasons. For one, I never thought I would be able to -- growing up, same-sex wasn’t even a remote possibility. But even more than that, I grew up in a house with two parents who have always been married but who have never seemed to love each other. Marriage to me is not about love, nor is it necessary to prove your love. It’s an outdated institution meant to show your possession of a person, something I would never dream of doing.”

Grantaire shook his head, but Enjolras didn’t stop long enough to let him speak. “But I also would never dream of my life without you.” Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, and Enjolras squeezed his hand as he continued, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and if you need for us to be married to make that happen, then I will marry you. Here, tomorrow, the next day -- whenever. Because being without you isn’t an option. Not for me.”

For a moment, Grantaire just stared at him, a flurry of emotions mingled on his face, before Cosette helpfully interjected from the front of the room, “You have to actually ask the question!”

The assembled guests laughed gently, as did Enjolras as he turned back to Grantaire. “The lady speaks the truth,” he said, lifting Grantaire’s hand to his mouth to kiss it. “So, there we are -- Grantaire, will you marry me?”

Grantaire’s expression softened, and he reached down to pull Enjolras to his feet, kissing him lightly on this lips, his free hand cupping Enjolras’s cheek. Then he broke away to tell him simply, “No.”

“No?” Enjolras repeated, incredulous.

“No,” Grantaire repeated, smiling slightly. “No, I won’t marry you.” Enjolras started to interject, but Grantaire reached up to lay a finger across his lips. “You’re not the only one who’s spent the last few weeks figuring what he can’t live without. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I won’t force you to do something you don’t want to. Besides, knowing that you really do want me, enough to marry me, even if we ever do -- that’s enough for me.”

“Haven’t I proven that time and time again?” Enjolras demanded, though his expression was soft, and when Grantaire just shrugged, Enjolras pulled him to him and kissed him, hard. “Stupid, cynical man.”

Grantaire laughed lightly, curling his fingers in Enjolras’s hair. “You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t. Besides, you know I believe in you. I just...I needed to know you believed in me, too.”

“Always,” Enjolras said instantly, and they kissed again, only breaking apart when the assembled guests, who they had entirely forgotten were there, broke into applause.

Thoroughly embarrassed, but neither able to stop grinning, Enjolras and Grantaire waved to the crowd and then quickly made their exit, ducking behind a row of bushes, assumedly to continue making up in private. The entertainment for the evening subsided, the band started playing again and the guests started dancing. Cosette pulled Marius onto the dance floor, steering him rather forcibly to the center of the dancefloor. “I should really give them a piece of my mind for taking the spotlight off of you,” Marius grumbled.

“Hush,” Cosette scolded, though she laughed lightly as she rested her head against Marius’s shoulder, watching where she could just see Enjolras and Grantaire kissing tenderly behind a bush, holding each other as if they’d never again let go. “Now’s not the time.”


End file.
